Bad Poetry for September

I sometimes envy those who can focus on one piece of  fictional work at a time. The endeavor seems to be beyond me. I work one piece, when the writing begins to pall I pick another. It works for me---most of the time anyway--- so I'm going to keep that modus operandi for a while.

Poetry is another thing altogether. That work comes when it comes. No prediction is possible and leaving something with a missing line sounds a death peal to the poem itself. I can't call it back and finish it. Revision, yes. Completion, no. A personal idiosyncrasy to be sure.

But all that said, it's time for more bad poetry. I haven't posted any this month, have I?

September 2013

I

Now distant thunder

Rain coming soon? Or too late?

Grass heat-brittle.

II

Longing for snowflakes

To dance on my fingertips

But rainbows would do.

III

September confused

Between summer and fall

Only halfway there.

IV

Summer all worn out

Fall reluctant to appear

Struggling with his shirt.

 

V

Rain now coming down

In sheets of silk and silver

Onto a bone bed.

VI

Water music

Playing on dusty windows

Too fast for dancing.

 

 

 



A couple of these appeared with the hashtags of #micropoetry and/or #haiku on Twitter.